


Serafina on a Cross

by faerieincombatboots



Series: The Unholy Misadventures of Sister Serafina [5]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Angst, Cannabis use, Character building, Cuddling, Drama, Drunken Shenanigans, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Morning Sex, Showers, cream pies but not the dessert if you know what i mean, repressed emotional pain unrepresses itself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-08 11:30:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21475300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerieincombatboots/pseuds/faerieincombatboots
Summary: A chance encounter with Papa Nihil reopens emotional wounds for an inebriated Sister Serafina and leaves her feeling particularly vulnerable. Can she find solace in the arms of Cardinal Copia?
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/Original Female Character(s), Cardinal Copia/Sister Serafina, Papa Emeritus III/Original Female Character(s), Papa Emeritus III/Sister Serafina, Papa Emeritus Zero | Papa Emeritus Nihil/Sister Imperator
Series: The Unholy Misadventures of Sister Serafina [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1284482
Comments: 37
Kudos: 72





	1. Some Poisons Taste Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, first and foremost, there will be NO smut until Chapter 3, when Serafina is sober again.  
Secondly, Chapter one is short, but chapter 2 will be long af to make up for it.  
Thirdly, this was only supposed to be a oneshot conversation between Nihil and Serafina, but like everything I write, quickly spiraled out of control.  
Finally, I make no money, I don't own anything, and nobody is intended to resemble any real person, just characters and stage personas.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sister Serafina is sneaking back in after a night on the town when she runs into Papa Nihil, what's he going to say?

It is late, and Sister Serafina is sneaking back into the abbey after a night on the town. She only meant to have a couple of drinks and head back, but the bar was having a karaoke contest. Serafina can’t resist showing off to a whole new crowd, so she decided she would stay to do one song. One song turned to another, and before she knew it, she was winning a karaoke contest, and having a bunch of admirers buy her round after round.

Now she is tip-toeing through down the corridors, somewhat tipsy, and trying to remember how to get to the Elizabeth Bathory wing without waking up half the Church. She carries her high heels in one hand, and a chintzy mini trophy in the other; her purse slung over her shoulder. She moves slowly, wobbling here and there. The marble floors are cold underneath her stocking feet.

The Sister enters a gallery filled with portraits, busts and statues of prominent Church members throughout history, some of them dating back to the late Middle Ages. Normally, she hates walking through here; it always feels like she’s being watched by many eyes made of paint and stone. But tonight she’s too full of liquor to really care; she just wants to fall into bed. Suddenly, she spies a figure up ahead. Could it be a ghost? An apparition of a Church member long deceased? Everyone knows the abbey is haunted. But when Sister Serafina sees the oxygen tank, she squeaks. This is no ghost, but none other than Papa Nihil himself. Papa Emeritus Zero, patriarch of the Emeritus Line, and destroyer of his own sons. Affable, and yet utterly ruthless.

As the Sister stumbles closer, she notices that the old man is wearing black silk pajamas, and an old fashioned velvet and quilted satin dressing gown. Instead of his miter, his head is covered by a long, pointed night cap, like some kind of Goth Ebenezer Scrooge. He is staring fixedly at something on the wall, and so far has not noticed her. Perhaps, if she can be quiet, she can get past him, and out of the gallery. But Serafina is drunk, and thus slightly clumsy. In a turn of bad luck, she drops her high heels, and her chintzy trophy. They hit the floor with a clang and two thuds. The trophy even bounces a little bit.

“_Mirda_,” She whispers. But because she’s drunk, that whisper is actually quite loud.

  
Papa Nihil turns to face Sister Serafina, and fixes her with an intense stare that sobers her a little bit. His eyes are filmy, but he seems to have no trouble seeing her. Then, she realizes with some shock that he’s not wearing his face paint. She’s never seen the old man with a naked face. He looks surprisingly…common. He could be one of the geezers who fed the pigeons on Boston Common or a war buddy of either of her grandfathers. Well, except for his Goth Ebenezer Scrooge get up.

“Good evening, Seestor,” He says mildly.

Papa recognizes the young woman standing in front of him from the Church’s choir. She was also, if he recalls correctly, a favorite lover of his youngest son; the only one who tried to stop the Ministry Guard when Nihil had the Third taken into custody. She’s a bold little thing, and provides an interesting ornament to his Anti-Papal Court despite her…difficult behavior.

“Good evening, Papa,” Serafina replies with a soft slur, trying to hide the caution in her voice. She has made an active effort to avoid to the Church Elder whenever possible. She has not quite forgiven him for taking her Emeritus away.

“Sneaking back in, are you?” Papa Nihil asks. His tone is congenial enough, but the Sister cannot trust him. Some poisons taste sweet, after all, and this could be a trap. When she doesn’t answer him right away, the old man smiles.

“I won’t tell Seestor Imperator,” He adds.

Serafina eyes him warily, but nods. She’s really got no choice but to trust that he’ll stay true to his word. He’s known to be less strict and more forgiving than Imperator, so who knows; maybe he’ll actually keep his mouth shut.

“Thank you,” She says. But as she does, she finds herself wondering what the hell the old fart is doing up and out of bed anyway. Shouldn’t he be snugged up in plastic lined sheets with his dentures fizzing in a glass? Serafina decides to ask.

“What are you doing awake?”

Papa chuckles. She’s a cheeky one; doesn’t know how to mind her business. But he decides to humor her.

“I can’t sleep, I’ve got a lot on my mind these days,” He says bluntly.

Secretly, Serafina hopes Nihil is plagued with guilt for having his own children assassinated, and that’s what is causing his insomnia. They were coming up on the anniversary of that dark day at the end of September, when Papa the Third had been unceremoniously dragged away from a crowded party. It was the last time many people saw him alive. Memories of that day had been creeping into her thoughts and poisoning her dreams. That’s why she had gone out drinking, to escape the looming ghosts. And now here she is, standing beside the man who orchestrated her grief.

Papa Nihil’s gaze returns to the wall covered in photos of Papas and other clergy members from the last 150 years or so. Starting with little tintypes and daguerreotypes, all the way to modern digital prints, it is a fascinating glimpse into the Church’s long and colorful history. Sister Serafina can see a carte de visite of an Abbess from the 1870’s, wearing a dramatic, bustled ballgown and a heavily jeweled Grucifix. She can also see a portrait of a group of Cardinals from the 1920’s, and a group of Ghouls holding a bunch of human scalps. An inscription on the frame says “Nameless Ghouls with 100 Nazi Scalps.

But Papa isn’t looking at the Abbess in the bustle, or the drunk cardinals, or even the Ghouls and their Nazi scalps. His attention is drawn to a silver framed snapshot of a young man with a mop of black hair, and familiar face paint. It’s Nihil himself, 50 years ago, when he was a young, newly ordained Unholy Priest trying to spread the word of Satan through rock and roll music. The album he made is said to be hidden in the Church’s vault, unheard for decades. On the young Papa’s arm is striking young woman, dressed in a stylish green and black mini-dress with kohl-lined eyes and her blonde hair pinned up elegantly.

“Who is that?” Serafina asks, moving in closer. The woman’s eyes are vaguely familiar.

“That’s me and Sister Imperator back in the day,” Papa Nihil says, his voice warm with pride and affection.

Sister Imperator? It is strange, but Serafina had never really thought about the fact that Imperator had been young once. Accustomed to the idea of the Sister as the stern matron who held the Church together; it is just too difficult to imagine her as anything else. What was she like in those days? Was she always so strict? How had she come to join the Church? Or was she born into the Church, or one of the orphans raised by it? Like Serafina, Imperator’s past was a mystery to others. Few knew the truth.

“I met her at a party, she was searching for the lost heir to the Emeritus line, and there I was.” Nihil continues.  
“I think it was love at first sight,”

Sister Serafina is somewhat startled to hear him speak so frankly with her. Everyone in the Church knew the basic details of the great love story of Nihil and Imperator, but it’s still a surprise to hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. She never imagined she’d be standing in the portrait gallery, drunk off her ass while Papa Nihil goes on and on about his great love for Sister Imperator, and how great things were in the ‘the good old days’. The whole thing reminds her of how her _Abuelo_ liked to talk about his youth in Cuba, when he was the son of wealthy casino and land owner. His family had to flee for Miami in 1959, when the Communists took over. Her mother’s father would sit in his chair and regale the grandkids with tales of gambling and dancing until dawn, or tell tales of serenading and seducing lovers under balconies fragrant with blossoms, or on moonlit beaches. Nihil’s nostalgic rambling is quite similar; he speaks warmly of orgies with hippies and dancing until dawn. He tells her of parties with rock stars, and a feud with Anton LaVey. Later, Sister Serafina will learn that these Golden Days weren’t as wonderful as the old man makes them sound; she will find out that he hurt a lot of people, including Sister Imperator. But nostalgia has a tendency of glossing over ugly little details like that. Then, Papa says something that surprises her.

“My son was very fond of you, you know,”

It’s a shocking departure from his rosy little stroll down memory lane. Why the sudden change of subject? Serafina eyes Papa warily; is this some kind of trap? Finally she decides to reply, she cannot stand there staring at Nihil forever.

“I was very fond of him too,” The Sister says carefully.

It’s an understatement. She had loved the Third, and he had loved her. She wants to grab Papa by the lapels of his stupid Ebenezer Scrooge dressing gown and scream it in his stupid old man face. Sister Serafina wants to tell him that no matter how affable and harmless he pretends to be, that she knows he’s nothing but a ruthless old tyrant. She wants to tell him that she will never forgive him for robbing her of her love and happiness. But she cannot do it. She does not think she ever will, either.

“But I think it was maybe more than a simple fondness. I think, perhaps, you two loved each other. Am I right, Seestor?” Papa Nihil adds, as if reading her mind.

Shocked further, Serafina can only mumble an affirmative, and he gives a satisfied nod. What is he getting at? What is he up to? She wants to get out of there, run, faint, puke, anything to get out of this bizarre situation. She finds herself wishing she was drunker, drunk enough to not know what the fuck he’s talking about. Drunk enough that she’ll forget this in the morning. Then, Papa drops another bombshell.

“Do you know what my son said to me after I had him taken into custody? What the first words out of his mouth were?” He asks suddenly.  
“ ‘Don’t let anything happen to my Serafina. Anything she’s done was done out of love.’ That’s what he said.”

The Sister’s mouth drops open as she takes in this revelation. Her Emeritus had been thinking of her? Her heart swells and aches with this knowledge. He must have been so scared, but still, his first thoughts were of her, and her safety. Tears threaten to sting Serafina’s eyes.

“That’s why you were never punished for your bold little attempt at interfering in Ministry business,” Nihil continues. Sister Serafina can hear a slight edge in his voice, underneath all the good humor.  
“Though, I must commend you for you effort. It was valiant, if not stupid,”

The Sister’s gut lurches at these words, and she feels an acidic burn in the back of her throat. Everyone knows that when the Third was taken Serafina had gone chasing after the men who had hauled him away. She was the only person who had tried to do anything. Everyone else was frozen in shock; some of her fellow Sisters of Sin were hysterically screaming. But no one else tried to stop what was happening. At the time, she had thought they were simply being cowards, spineless bystanders. Now, she wonders if they had actually been smarter than her all along.

“I…I loved him,” Sister Serafina says weakly. She loved him, and she tried to save him.

“Lots of Seestors did,” Papa Nihil says with a shrug.

How can he speak so fondly of love one moment, and then so dismissively the next? How can he consider the love between him and Imperator so sacred and special, but not hers and the Third’s? A horrible sick feeling washes over her, making her dizzy. Serafina is not sure how much longer she can stand to be around the old man. She’s not sure how anyone can stand to be around him. It’s almost as if everyone’s forgotten what the man did to his own sons. All anyone wants to talk about are Nihil’s sax solos and dad jokes, happy to pretend nothing happened. The Sister is about to make her excuses and leave, when Papa speaks again.

“I’ve heard through the Church’s Grapevine that the Cardinal has taken a shine to you,” He says seemingly changing the subject. Papa Nihil looks her over briefly, as if trying to figure out what it is about Sister Serafina that seems to bewitch men and Ghouls. Even his middle son, the ill-tempered Papa Emeritus II, had nothing but glowing praise for this most unusual Sister of Sin.

Serafina doesn’t know how to respond this third bombshell. He’s really on a roll tonight, isn’t he? And what’s more, how many people know about her and Copia? They’ve tried so hard to keep things quiet. Ok, maybe not that hard.

“If it’s true…” Papa continues, not waiting for her to reply.  
“Well, if it’s true, let’s hope you don’t do to him what you did to my boy, eh?”

At these words, the Sister feels a flood of sick, helpless anger. What the fuck did he just say to her? Her mouth drops open, and she hugs herself, pressing her shoes and trophy into her abdomen. He pauses to take a hit of his oxygen tank, watching her face turn pale with shock and hurt. The old fuck looks almost triumphant. When he’s done, he keeps talking.

“He had so much potential; he could have brought so much glory to the Church. I thought he’d be more successful than his brothers, but you…you distracted him from his true purpose. Distracted him, and used him. I know you did, used to him to get away with doing whatever you wanted to do, even when you should have been punished severely. I know what kind of woman you are. Did you really love him? Or was he nothing but a sugar daddy to you? I know how much of the Church’s money he spent on you, with your parties and shopping sprees. You only cared about what he could give you, what he could do for you, didn’t you?”

Sister Serafina cannot believe what she is hearing. Is really blaming her for the Third’s fall? For something he himself orchestrated? And worse, how can he sit there and claim she didn’t love Emeritus at all? How can he make her confess to loving the Third, and then completely and totally invalidate it? What kind of sadistic shit is this man? And the worst part is, the Sister knows she’s too terrified to stand up for herself. Serafina has never, ever mouthed off Papa Nihil, not once in her entire time in the Church. The man is unpredictable, swinging wildly between a merciful genial Elder of the Church, and cruel one. She always found it best to stay on his good side, and up until now he’d always been so…nice to her. How long had he been holding this grudge? Has he always blamed her? Or is this a more recent development? And who else in the Church might feel the same way? Ignoring the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, Papa keeps talking.

“And if the Cardinal were smart he would…”

“I would what?” A familiar and much beloved voice asks from behind them.


	2. Vodka Infused Venom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While sneaking through the Church Corridors after a night on the town, Sister Serafina has run into Papa Nihil in the portrait gallery. What starts as a pleasant trip down memory lane, turns into Papa blaming the Sister for the downfall of his son, Papa Emeritus III, and warning her to stay away from Cardinal, who has just stumbled upon the Church Elder and his Favorite. What will Papa say? And more importantly, what will become of the now emotionally devastated and still drunk Serafina?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I thought Two was going to be super long, but I found a way to break it into two chapters, so the smut ain't happening until Chapter Four.  
Get ready for more emotional wrecking!  
As always, I own nothing, make no money. You know the drill.

Papa Nihil and Sister Serafina turn around to see Cardinal Copia. He’s wearing his black cassock and trousers, but no biretta, and is staring at them in surprise. The Cardinal had been in the library translating texts, when he had fallen asleep, slumped over a table. He woke up with his face buried in a first edition, with his back and neck aching like hell. Now he is surprised to find Papa and Sister Serafina standing in the portrait gallery together, seemingly talking about…him. He looks at his Favorite; she’s not wearing her habit, or any sort of sleepwear, like Papa is. Instead she’s wearing a tight black minidress and a pink leather jacket. Her hair is big and bouncy, she’s wearing rhinestone trimmed hoops and fishnet tights. In her arms she holds a pair of black high heels and a cheap little trophy. Copia’s heart leaps at the sight of her dolled up like this, she’s done her makeup and everything, winged black eyeliner and highlighted cheekbones. But that same organ plummets into the Cardinal’s stomach when he sees Serafina’s waxy, stricken face. What'shappened? He glances over at Papa for some form of explanation.

“That you wouldn’t be too harsh with this sweet Seestor for coming in so late,” Papa Nihil says with a truculent smile.

Serafina feels a wave of nausea that could either be disgust or vodka. Most likely disgust, possibly both. But still, she’s never been so happy to see Copia, even though, or maybe especially because, she’s certain the old man was about to say he thinks the Cardinal should cast her aside.

“But of course,” The Cardinal says, giving one of his awkward little bows. He always gets like this around Papa, subservient, groveling and scraping like some sort…underling.  
“Better to have her come home late and safe, than not all,”

It’s something Copia has been longing to tell her; how it deeply worries him when she sneaks out to go the bars and clubs of the city. On evenings when he knows she’s left the relative safety of the Abbey, he sits up all night, drinking gin and worrying. He can’t help but imagine all the horrible things that can befall a woman alone in the city, The Cardinal did not know she was going out tonight, none of the Ghouls had told him. Maybe they did not know she’d gone out. Or maybe they were keeping secrets for her. If he had known, he would not have been in the library trying to translate ancient Greek and Egyptian texts describing early Nameless Ghouls. Instead he would have been keeping his vigil, his gin glass full, and a rat sitting on his shoulder for comfort.

“Yes, yes. I found her wandering the gallery, stumbling and dropping things. I think she might be…turnt, as the kids say these days,” Nihil continues.

Copia looks at Serafina again. She’s pale, and there’s a strange expression on her face. She looks queasy, definitely; what he doesn’t know is that she’s practically sick with anger. But what worries him the most is her silence. Usually, she would have something to say for herself. Instead she’s looking between Papa and the Cardinal with wide, mascara ringed eyes and pinched mouth.

“Perhaps…you ought to take her to bed,” Papa says, the double entendre in his voice clear and rather unsettling, considering the circumstances.

“I’ll uh…walk her to her dorm room,” Copia stutters, a blush on his pale cheeks. Papa must know about his affair with the Sister, then. He was certain everyone did at this point, despite all their best efforts to keep things quiet. He knew people could let jealousy get the best of them, and he didn’t want Sister Serafina treated badly because he favored her. But he’s finding that certain things about the Church are far out the realm of his control.

Nihil chuckles and turns back to the photo of his younger self and Sister Imperator, not once thinking of himself as a hypocrite or having done anything wrong. He doesn’t say goodnight to the couple, he’s back in the (secular) haze of his past. Papa is remembering a time when his body didn’t ache, he didn’t need an oxygen tank to breathe (damn clove cigarettes) and he didn’t have to get up to piss several times during the night.

“Goodnight, Papa,” Copia says anyway. He waits for a reply. Nothing. Oh well.  
“Come along Sister,”

The Cardinal puts his hand gently on her back, and starts to lead her out of the portrait gallery. Serafina moves slowly, shuffling as if she might fall apart, and holding her belongings to her middle as if they’ll hold her together. She is reeling from Papa Nihil’s words, utterly gutted. He’d always been so nice to her in the past, been lenient when Sister Imperator wanted to be strict. It’s made worse by how sickly sweet and nice he turned as soon as Copia showed up. It was disgusting. The Sister cannot stand two-faced people.

The Cardinal glances over at Serafina as the walk through the dimly lit corridors. She really doesn’t look well at all; she looks like she’s ready to cry or vomit and can’t decide which order to do it in. Tentatively, Copia puts an arm around her shoulders. Sister Serafina leans into him a little bit, and he can’t tell if it’s because she’s drunk and having trouble staying upright, or if she’s upset and seeking comfort. Maybe it’s both. Finally he decides to break the dreadfully heavy silence.

“You’re very lucky that Papa Nihil told me to take it easy on you,” He tries to jest.  
“I just bought a new leather crop..”

To Copia’s surprise, Serafina pulls away from him, tearing his arm off her with one hand, and juggling her belongings with the other. She drops a shoe but doesn’t notice.

“Oh go fuck yourself you, you Goth Barry Manilow!!” She says with vehemence and vodka infused venom. Copia looks shocked and dismayed but she keeps talking, unconsciously taking out her hurt on him.  
“Do you even know what that Spooky California Raisin fucking said to me? Would you even believe me if I told you? Would you even hear me with your head so far up his ass?”

The Cardinal hasn’t had Sister Serafina speak so harshly to him before. Not even the first time she was brought to his office, or the time he forgot to summon her after mass. She’s been upset with him before, but there’s something raw about this. He feels his heart drop again, and his temper flares up, but at the same time he startled by the deep hurt in her eyes. Her words come from a place of pain, he realizes.

But before Copia can say or do anything, Serafina takes off at an alarming and surprisingly fast gait. The Cardinal blinks in surprise, not knowing that a drunk trying to get away from you is faster than a cat on cocaine. With a sigh, he follows her, hoping all this commotion doesn’t wake the whole Church. He hears a clonk and a clang; she must have dropped her things, including that cheap little trophy. Where did she even get that? He decides to ask her later, if he can wrangle her first.

Serafina alternates between a stumbling run and awkward speed walk, trying to outpace the Cardinal. He throat is tight, and tears are running down her cheeks, turning her eye makeup into a runny sludge, and making stark tracks in her iridescent highlighter. A sob rises up from her constricted throat, struggling to escape her lips. She’s dropped her shoes and trophy, but somehow miraculously hasn’t lost her purse yet. The Sister doesn’t know where her feet are taking her, only that she needs as much space between her and Copia as possible. No such luck, she can hear footsteps some yards behind her; he must have decided to chase after her. Serafina knows she ought to be flattered, but she finds herself moving faster instead. She doesn’t want to see him. Not after what she said to him, the Sister is certain she’s gone too far this time. Whatever they had between them has been destroyed, like a seedling crushed under foot, or a dewy cobweb carelessly torn.

Eventually, Sister Serafina’s legs give out from under her. She collapses in front of the huge stained glass windows that Papa Nihil recently had commissioned of himself and his dead sons. The first window shows the Papa Emeritus I, a cantankerous old man fond of red wine and not much else. Serafina never met him; she had joined the Church shortly after he’d been replaced by the Second Papa Emeritus, her initiator. He is immortalized in the large middle window, accompanied by the looming figure of his father. Then there is the window that draws her gaze, the last one, portraying her lost love, Papa Emeritus III. Even rendered in stained glass he’s achingly handsome, and the Sister feels a swell of fresh grief. She misses him; she misses him more than anyone will ever know. She misses his laugh, and the way he used to look at her, his eyes glazed and dreamy. She misses the smell of his skin after they made love, and the sweet and dirty words he’d whisper in her ear. Papa was one of the few people that Serafina had ever truly loved.

“_Mi amor_…” She chokes out, her eyes never leaving the Third’s glass visage. Her hands are clasped to her chest as if she were praying. Perhaps she is, in a way.  
“Was it really my fault? Did I really drag you down and ruin you?”

As soon as the words leave her lips, Sister Serafina finally breaks down and gives into her grief, sobbing hard. If ever there was a time for Papa’s ghost to appear and comfort the Sister, now would be it. But the Third’s specter is currently hanging over his father’s shoulder, so it doesn’t happen. Instead it is Copia who finds her, trying to muffle her crying. Serafina is desperate that no one sees or hears her, but she is frozen to her spot on the floor, unable to get back up. All she can do is bury her face in her hands and try not to keen like a banshee.

The Cardinal is not sure what to make of the sight before him. He’s never seen Sister Serafina like this before; she’s always so strong, so tough. She’s always cracking jokes, and always first to laugh, first one on the dance floor and the last one to go to bed. Now, he cannot help but wonder how much of it is only a mask that hides her deep pain and a raw vulnerability.

“I have your things,” he says awkwardly, holding up her shoes and the trophy.

At first she ignores him, and continues to wail behind her hands. Then at last she speaks, in a croaky tear soaked voice.

“Go away,” The Sister sniffles.  
“Just leave my shit here, and fucking forget about me. Find a new Favorite; I’ll only end up ruining you too,”

Copia is shocked and confused by her words until he sees the stained glass windows she’s collapsed in front of. After a moment, he is able to put the pieces together. Papa Nihil must have said something to her about the Third that upset her. It would explain the outburst that preceded her dramatic exit.

“Oh _Cara_,” The Cardinal sighs at last, lifting his cassock so he can kneel beside her on the floor  
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,”

Serafina looks up at him from her hands. Her eye makeup is running down her cheeks, and her face is sticky with tears and snot from ugly crying. Part of her is screaming inwardly at allowing Copia to see her like this, but at the same time, she’s flattered that he’s showing so this concern for her. Mainly, she wants him to go away so she can wallow in her misery.

“You’re in no state to be alone, please Sister, come with me. Get yourself straightened up, and we can talk about what happened,” Copia continues, reaching out to stroke her hair the way she likes. He’s startled to find it stiff with hairspray and mousse, but doesn’t stop petting her, hoping it’ll provide some comfort. It works with his rats.

“Fuck off,” Sister Serafina croaks, drawing her knees up to her chest and leaning against her thighs, folding in on herself.

“Maybe later, first, let me help you,” The Cardinal replies mildly, placing her shoes and her trophy in her arms.

Serafina does not resist when he wraps an arm around her waist and heaves to her to her feet. Fine, let him help her. Whatever. Her legs feel like jelly, so she wraps her an arm around Copia’s neck, juggling her things with the other. She’s grateful when the Cardinal takes the trophy with his free hand, making it easier to carry her shoes. For a moment she wishes she hadn’t won that fucking karaoke contest. She wouldn’t have gotten so wasted, and she wouldn’t be carrying this clumsy, chintzy thing. Why couldn’t they just give her a medal or a gift certificate for frozen yogurt?

“Where did you get this thing?” Copia asks, looking at it more closely. It’s Gold colored plastic treble clef on a fake marble base.

“I won it doing karaoke,” Sister Serafina says bluntly.  
“And if you tell anyone that I was drunk and crying I’ll make you fucking eat it,”

“I’m sure you will,” Copia replies patiently. He takes her threats of making him eat random objects with good humor.

He starts to guide the Sister down the hall. She stumbles along obediently, humming an old drinking song her Dad, Uncle Jimmy and Grandpa (their father) used to sing at holidays, weddings and wakes.

“So where are you taking me?” Serafina mumbles at last, realizing they’re not headed towards the Elizabeth Bathory Wing at all.

“My quarters. They’re not too far from here. If you were sober you’d recognize where we are,” Copia says bluntly. He can smell the Sister Serafina’s perfume, and her fruity shampoo, mingling with the sharp smell of vodka.

“Gonna punish meeee?” The Sister croons, turning her head to press sloppy, damp kisses with his neck and cheek, nuzzling his sideburns.

“No,” The Cardinal replies firmly, dodging her seeking mouth.  
“You’re drunk; I’m going to help you sober up, and we’re going to talk,”

“Uggh,” Serafina groans.  
“I don’t wanna talk. I wanna go to bed. I’ll sober up in my sleep.”

“You’ll wake up with a hangover,” Copia says evenly.  
“I’m commanding you as your Cardinal. You are going to sit on my couch, drink some water, and tell me what’s got you so upset,”

“You wouldn’t believe me,” Sister Serafina says glumly.  
“No one would believe me. Everyone thinks I’m this conniving, ambitious slut, when all I’ve ever done my whole unplanned and unwanted life is just try to survive. Did you know my father wishes I’d never been born? Did you know I’m a mistake? He told me when I was 13.”

The Sister makes a noise that could either be a laugh or a sob. It dissolves into the latter, at least, and Serafina is crying again. Surprised by this second outburst, Copia stops in his tracks and sweeps her into a tight hug. He’s not used to the Sister being this way; it’s like a seam inside her has ripped, and all these old demons and hurts have coming pouring out her. The Cardinal hopes that holding her like this will keep them from spilling everywhere. He also hopes she doesn’t wake the Church with this overdue meltdown. Couldn’t this wait until they get to his room?

“We can cry and walk at the same time,” Copia says, after a moment, his anxiety overriding his urge to console. He starts to usher her along; his quarters are not much farther.

“You’re kind of a dick, you know that?” Sister Serafina hiccups.  
“And speaking of dicks…did you know that everyone can see yours when you wear that white suit? We can see everything. Who do you think you are? David Bowie in Labyrinth? Are you the Goblin King now?”

Copia blushes, but listening to her rant and ramble about his penis is certainly better listening to those heart rending sobs. The Sister is now giving him a highly detailed description of how he looks in his white trousers, using her most colorful language and hand gestures to do so. This keeps her occupied until they reach the door to his quarters and he lets them in. Once inside, he sets her little trophy on a side table, and suggests she put down her shoes and get comfortable. Instead, she flings her high heels to the floor and launches herself at the Cardinal. She wraps her arms around him and sloppily tries to kiss him. She misses his mouth, and plants vodka slobber on his cheek.

“I like when you wear them tight pants,” Sister Serafina slurs.

She tries to kiss him again, but ends up passionately sucking the end of his nose. With a sigh, Copia pulls her off of him as gently as he can, wondering how she can go from miserably sobbing one moment, to amorous the next.

“You are drunk,” He says evenly.

“And you’re sexy,” The Sister grins, sliding out of her leather jacket with a surprising grace for drunk person.

“Thank you,” the Cardinal says awkwardly, watching her throwing the jacket in the general direction of the coat rack.  
“Here, sit down and I’ll get you some water,”

Serafina collapses on the couch with a soft thump. Water does sound pretty good right now, especially after all that crying. She blearily watches Copia putter about, getting a bottle of water from the mini-fridge next to the bar. She focuses her gaze on him, because if she looks around, she’ll find a memory in every corner, like lurking ghosts. She doesn’t want to think about the Third anymore tonight, she wants to take a break from her grief.

“Here you are,” The Cardinal says, sitting beside her and pressing the cold bottle into her hand.  
“Please drink,”

Sister Serafina takes a few sips. It’s one of those fancy bottled waters, from some mountain spring where ancient gods once washed their ancient holy taints. It’s good water. Really fucking good water. The sips turn to little gulps. As she does so, Copia pushes her long hair aside and places a hand on the back of her neck, making soothing circles. He pets her the way he would one of his rats, and Serafina leans into the affectionate touch.

“Now, tell me…” He says gently when she stops chugging the water. Little streams run down her chin, drip onto her chest.  
“What did Papa say to you? I know he can be an asshole sometimes,”

It’s true. As much as he tries to gain Papa Nihil’s approval, Copia knows the man can occasionally be appallingly insensitive. The Cardinal also cannot help but notice that the old man even seems envious of his newfound popularity among the Sisters of Sin. If it were not for Sister Imperator’s calming influence on Papa, Copia would be more nervous.

As calmly as she can, Sister Serafina describes her encounter with Papa Nihil, managing to repeat every poisonous word. It’s an impressive feat, considering that she’s drunk, but Serafina has gotten very good at cataloguing every insult, every microaggression flung at her. The Sister does not forgive and forget, but remembers and avenges. Most of what she says doesn’t surprise Copia too much, not even the revelation that she was in love with his Predecessor. He had come to that conclusion on his own a while ago, just by listening to Sister Serafina’s stories about the time she spent with the Third. But Nihil’s opinion that he should stay away from the Sister? Well that’s news, and unwelcome news at that. Copia doesn’t appreciate Papa trying to meddle in his business, and he’s certainly not happy that the old man has gone and hurt a woman he’s come to lo- care about very much.

“I’ll talk to him,” the Cardinal vows, fervently. He can feel his blood heating up with wrath, an urge to protect the Sister of Sin looking glum on his couch.

“Why? So you can get dragged off and assassinated too?” Serafina says in a defeated, pessimistic tone.

Her words make Copia’s gut clench in a storm of emotions. He has occasionally worried that he might end up sharing the same fate as The Third. Papa Nihil could turn on him just as easily, and knowing that the old man didn’t approve of his affair with Sister Serafina didn’t assuage his fear. Then of course, there’s the Cardinal’s own role in his predecessor’s downfall, however small, and seemingly insignificant it seemed at the time. It had been one little sarcastic comment about how Nihil should just assassinate his sons if he found them so troublesome. Copia didn’t think that Papa would take it seriously and actually have his own children killed. He’s never told Serafina about this, and he’s not sure if he ever could. Nor could he tell her that sometimes when he’s with her, he finds himself thinking: “You took the man’s job and his life, and now you’re taking his woman?” It’s an awful thought; the Sister was no one’s woman. She’s very much her own woman, despite her soul technically belonging to Satan. But did the Fallen One not value independence and freedom?

Copia is shaken out of his thoughts by a sharp, high sob. Serafina has started crying again, crying and babbling. He can only make out a few words:

“I can’t lose you too,”

The Cardinal doesn’t know how to respond to such a raw confession, so he wraps his arms around her and pulls her to his chest. He can’t promise her that nothing will happen to him, that she won’t lose him too. No one’s safety is guaranteed in this Church, his least of all. But he can hold her, and that’s something. He holds Serafina, and even rocks her back and forth a little, rubbing her back as he does so. She makes a damp patch on his chest with hot tears and perhaps a little bit of snot, yet Copia doesn’t mind at all. He figures the Sister needs to get it all out of her system. Who knows how long she’s kept these feelings bottled up inside?

“It’s going to be alright,” The Cardinal says at last, finally finding some words.

“You’re full of shit,” Sister Serafina sniffles into his chest.  
“But please keep holding me, and maybe I’ll start to see things differently,”

“Okie dokie,” Copia says softly, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.  
“But perhaps you’d like your face washed soon?”

The Sister’s face is puffy and sticky, a mess of briny tears and smeared makeup. She gingerly touches her cheek, and feels how sticky it is. If she leaves her face in this state it’ll irritate her skin, lead to breakouts and clogged pores. It’s a tempting offer, having Copia offer to pamper her this way.

“Can we do that now?” Serafina asks, looking up at him.

“Of course, _cara_, of course,” He whispers.

Before she knows it, Sister Serafina is being herded into the bathroom, towards the counter by the bathroom sink. She tries to hop up on her own, but she’s still somewhat drunk, and misses it by a six inches. The Cardinal catches her, and then lifts and sets her on the counter in one fluid motion.

“How can you even lift my fat ass,” the Sister blurts out.  
“Are you magic?”

“Maybe I am,” Copia says, chuckling and giving her a playful wink.

“Knew it” He can hear Serafina mutter as he goes to the cabinet to fetch a few things. He chuckles again, please to see she’s seemed to have cheered up. Then the Cardinal turns to face her, holding up a pink capped bottle, and a bag of soft cotton rounds.

“I remembered what you said about micellar water,” He says sheepishly, shaking the bottle.

The Sister smiles; last week, Copia had complained to her about how hard it was to wash off his face paint. Idly, she had suggested that he use micellar water before he cleanses, swearing that it always helped get all her make up off. To her pleasant surprise, it turns out that Cardinal had taken her advice.”

“Clever boy,” Serafina purrs fondly.

Copia pours some the water onto a cotton pad and starts to gently wipe down her face. She closes her eyes and gives a pleased sigh. She adores being taken care of, and the Cardinal is quite good at it. He has a tender, gentle pair of hands, used to handling ancient manuscripts and his rats. The contrast between his sweet pampering and how hard he can spank her never fails to astound her. He is also efficient, and has her makeup removed and her face washed in seemingly no time at all. His own face however, still has smudged and smeared paint ornamenting his lips and eyes.

“Don’t forget to take yours off too,” The Sister says running a finger down his cheek, and giving him one of her lopsided grins.

“Of course not,” Copia scoffs. He gets another cotton pad, and shaking the bottle up again.  
“Stay right where you are until I’m done,”

But because she’s Sister Serafina, she doesn’t listen. While the Cardinal is engrossed in removing his eye makeup, Serafina slides off the counter and stumbles over to the shower. Having her face cleaned wasn’t enough, and she feels an urge to wash off this entire evening. Besides, if she doesn’t get the product out of her hair before bed, she’ll wake up with gross hair in the morning.

The fun begins. The Sister starts to roll her stretchy mini-dress up over her head. It’s no easy feat, considering that she’s not yet sober, and so she flails about blindly until the dress is off her body. Serafina looks up. Copia is still busy removing his makeup, and hasn’t noticed the commotion behind him. She continues stripping, peeling her shapewear off as if it were shrink-wrap until she’s left in her fishnet tights, bra and underwear. Sister Serafina attacks her tights next, and starts to wiggle her way out of them swaying with the effort to keep her balance. It would be easier if she just perched on the closed toilet seat with the absurd Grucifix emblazoned cover, but because she’s still tipsy, the idea just doesn’t occur to her. Instead Serafina decides to hop around like a crackhead.

Copia is just finishing up with his face when he hears the Sister huffing and struggling behind him. Then he hears a thud, and some choice swears. What in the Nine Pits is she doing? He turns around and finds Serafina sitting on her ass on the bathroom floor, patiently removing her fishnets.

“What are you doing?” The Cardinal asks.

Sister Serafina doesn’t answer him at first; she’s occupied with the hooks of her bra. Finally, after a small struggle, her breasts are free and she flings the garment across the bathroom. It lands on Copia, one of the massive cups covering his head like a yarmulke. Serafina can’t help but laugh, and launches into a rousing, drunken version of Hava Ngila. The Cardinal sighs, and removes the bra, letting it hit the floor.

“Very funny,” He says, pinching the bridge of his nose.  
“But what are you doing?”

“I want to take a shower,” She says, looking up at him.

“Well in that case, I’ll join you. You shouldn’t be in there alone,” Copia says, leaning down and pulling Sister Serafina to her feet.

“Oooh la la,” The Sister giggles.

“So you don’t get hurt,” Copia says patiently, holding her steady as she wriggles out of her panties. A shower would be nice, his neck and shoulders are sore from falling asleep at a library table.

“How gallant of you,” Serafina says, and then holds up the underwear she’s just taken off.  
“Are you going to want these to jerk off to?”

The Cardinal flushes pink and groans. Will she ever let him live that one down? Sometimes they’ll be peacefully sitting in the gardens together, or something, and out of nowhere, the Sister will say: “Remember the time you masturbated to my dirty underwear?”

“It was one time!” He huffs.

“Oh Honey Rat, I’m really quite flattered,” Serafina coos, tugging at his cassock and tousling his hair playfully. Copia blushes deeper and mumbles under his breath. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he really enjoys her new pet name for him. Honey Rat.

“Now get nakey, Mister Man,” She continues, giving him a play swat on his butt.  
“It’s washy scrubby time,”

The Sister has definitely cheered up, Copia thinks to himself as he obeys and sheds the layers of his vestments. He also reflects that this is the first time he’s undressed in front of Sister Serafina without the intention of fucking her. His cock is soft, even as his eyes take in the curves of the body he’s become so familiar with. The Cardinal is not used to this non-sexual intimacy. Usually when someone wants to take a shower with him, it inevitably ends in sex, in one form or another. But he figures this really isn’t a good time for it, considering Serafina’s current lack of sobriety and emotional vulnerability. Copia is a horndog, but he’s not a scumbag.

When his clothes join the Sister’s in the heap on the floor, Copia ushers her into the shower. It’s an impressive one, all black tile and marble, with built-in benches and multiple showerheads with various settings, two of which are detachable. Commissioned by the Second Emeritus back in his day, it could fit up six people. Papa II liked to summon several Sisters of Sin and have them join him in a delightful cornucopia of flesh, suds and massaging detachable showerheads. Sister Serafina thinks fondly on those times, not only was the Second surprisingly skilled at Shower Sex, but she also hooked up with a few of her fellow Sisters of Sin during those showers.

While the Cardinal fiddles with the knobs, muttering in Italian, Serafina collapses on one of the benches and waits for the warm water to hit her skin and wash this spoiled night off of her. When it does, she moans in a kind of relief. Things always look better after a good shower.

“Let me wash your hair,” Copia suggests tenderly. He’s started keeping her brand of shampoo and conditioner in here, for the rare occasions where Sister Serafina decides to stay the night.

The Sister nods in consent, and he grabs a handheld showerhead and starts wetting her hair, marveling that this is the first time he’s used the appliance on a body part besides her pussy. Serafina would be having similar thoughts, but she’s too busy luxuriating in the glorious sensation of warm water running over her scalp. Delightful tingles race up and down her body, and she closes her eyes in the pleasure of it all.

“This is nice,” She says at last, with a satisfied sigh.

The Cardinal gives a little hum of agreement as he pours shampoo into his palm. Then he washes her hair with a tender efficiency that makes her melt under his hands. He rinses her tresses well, and even conditions them, knowing that her curls will be dry and knotty if he doesn’t. The Sister told him that once, when he asked her why her hair was always so lovely. It’s funny how he remembers all these little things he tells her.

When the conditioner is rinsed out, Copia settles down beside Serafina on the bench and gathers her into his arms. He holds her for a long time, pressed against his chest, the Sister’s head on his shoulder. The water feels fantastic on his back and neck, massaging the muscles made sore by his library nap.

Sister Serafina relaxes in the Cardinal’s embrace, feeling peace for the first time since she ran into Papa Nihil. Of course, she cannot help but remember that she and the Third liked to do this when things got stressful, cuddle in the shower like a pair of amorous rainforest frogs. Now history is repeating itself with Copia, and while what they have together is quite similar to what she had with the Third Emeritus, it’s also something else altogether. Something beautiful in its own right, something she’s profoundly glad she has, and desperately doesn’t want to lose. It’s been nearly eighteen months since that May afternoon when Sister Imperator deposited Serafina in the Cardinal’s office, and the Sister doesn’t know how much time they have left together. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen; people and Ghouls come and go around here so often. Any time she loves someone in this Church something happens. Sometimes it’s a transfer to another ministry, or a quiet resignation and breaking of one’s vows. There have been runaway novices, and excommunicated traitors and blasphemers. Then, there are the Dead. But they don’t really leave. The Church is honeycombed with tombs and corpses, niches in marble walls, long dead clergy under the Chapel floors. There are also catacombs in the cellar, the graveyard surrounded by a stonewall, and of course, the large marble mausoleum where dead Papas spend their eternal rest. Death is everywhere in the Church, Serafina thinks to herself, and the dead really don’t leave. There are ghosts and poltergeists in every corner of this damn place, every nook has a spirit, every cranny a specter.

Sometimes, Sister Serafina wonders if she is cursed, or perhaps well and truly damned (Just like Nana Delaney said). Perhaps there’s no such thing as a happy ending. Look at her parents, loathing each other, but refusing to divorce. She can’t tell if her situation is better or worse. Better perhaps.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this quiet,” Copia says at last, pressing a kiss to her wet temple.

“Lost in thought,” Serafina murmurs, snapping out her thoughts of the death and ghosts and the family she abandoned for the Church.

“What is it you Americans say? A pence for your thoughts? A penny? A penny for your thoughts?” The Cardinal replies.

“I think I’m cursed,” Sister Serafina says bluntly.

“Nonsense…”Copia tries to soothe her.

“But if something happened to you _mi ciel_o…” The Sister blurts out, suddenly cupping his face in her hands. Soaking wet, he looks like a shipwrecked rat. It’s endearing.

“Nothing is going to happen,” Copia insists. He knows this is an empty promise, that anything can happen and nothing is certain. But he doesn’t want her to worry; he doesn’t want her to cry.

“You can’t promise that,” Serafina says with a shake of her head.  
“Not in this place,”

“I’ll do my best,” The Cardinal promises, kissing her forehead.

The Sister knows that this is true. Somehow she knows Copia will at least try to survive this snake pit. Serafina never thought she could trust the man who replaced her Emeritus, but here she is. Here they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter will be more fluff!


	3. Love Makes All Kinds of Shit Possible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Copia has successfully gotten a drunk and emotionally devastated Serafina back to his quarters and sobered up with only a few minor hiccups. We last left them cuddling in the shower, but they can't stay in there all night. Now it's time for bed, and even now, Copia is still full of surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short but very sweet chapter. I advise that you brush your teeth after reading this, because this is some tooth rotting fluff.  
Disclaimer same as last two chapters.

When their fingers start to wrinkle, Copia turns off the water and ushers her out of the shower, both of them dripping onto the fluffy black bathroom rug. He grabs fresh towels from a rack, and wraps first Serafina and then himself in them. The Cardinal is pleased to see that the Sister Serafina has sobered up enough to dry her own hair with a smaller towel he hands her.

When the Sister is done, she looks over at Copia through a veil of damp curls. His own hair is slicked back with water, and he’s wrapped a towel around his waist, hiding the thighs she’s come to worship and adore. But she can still see his chest and shoulders, and the slightly pudgy belly of his that she’s also come to worship and adore. She feels a sudden swell of emotion as she gazes at him, something like love…ok fine, it’s love. Serafina is in love with the Cardinal and terrified to admit it, terrified to put words to these feelings. If she tells him she loves him, she’ll only jinx him too, just like she did Papa, and a few of the long gone Ghouls.

Copia catches the Sister watching him her eyes wide and dark and lovely, drawing him in. Those hooks for the soul, he wants to fall into their abyss. He closes the gaps between them, and starts pushing locks of hair off her face, tucking them behind her years. Tell her, he goads himself. Just tell her how you feel about her, you fucking coward. Three little fucking words.

“Serafina…” The Cardinal whispers at last, swallowing hard.  
“I…”

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Sister Serafina interrupts.  
“I don’t want to be alone.”

She pauses. It’s not so much that she doesn’t want to be alone; if she goes back to her dorm, her longtime roommate Sister Calpurnia will be there, snoozing away in her own bed. She technically wouldn’t be alone. But she would have to lie in her sad narrow bed, without a warm body to cuddle. A warm body that belongs to a particular Cardinal.

“I want to be with you,” Serafina confesses.

Copia’s breath hitches and his heart flutters. It makes him feel like a love struck youth again; she wants to be with **him**.

“Of course, _cara_,” He whispers, kissing her forehead.  
“Of course,”

The Cardinal leads Serafina out of the bathroom, and into the bedroom. He sets her on the edge of the bed, while he walks over to his wardrobe. The Sister watches him put on the crimson silk pajamas with the monogram on the chest. She gives a wistful sigh as he buttons up the shirt, covering his sweet little pot belly and the patch of chest hair she loves. But when Copia pulls out a black box embossed with a large Grucifix she perks up in curiosity. What’s all this?

“I have something for you,” He says, walking back over to her and placing the rectangular box in her lap.  
“Go on, open it,”

Serafina obeys, and is surprised to find a pair of silk pajamas that match his own, wrapped in black tissue paper. She holds up the top. The chest is monogrammed with a black S.

“What in Baphomet’s Goat Titties are these?” She blurts out.

“I know you usually prefer to sleep naked in this bed, but I had these made for you…and I mean, it is getting colder…” Copia rambles away, blushing, sitting beside her on the bed.

“Thank you,” the Sister says, softly this time, before grabbing him by the sideburns to plant kisses on his face.

He had matching, monogrammed pajamas made for her. How sweet, and odd and wonderful of him. Serafina takes them out of the box, and stands up to slip them on, marveling at how well they fit and feel against her skin. She steps back and models them for Copia, who gives her a rare and sweet smile.

“They look good on you,” He purrs, reaching out and pulling her into his lap.

“You’re too nice to me,” Sister Serafina says as she makes herself comfortable, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Nonsense,” He whispers, cradling her in his arms, pressing kissing to her damp hair.

“You are. I’m sorry for the things I said tonight, for throwing myself at you. This why I should never drink vodka, but it doesn’t excuse how I acted,” Serafina says bluntly.  
“You deserve bett…”

Copia shushes her by placing a long finger over her lips, knowing full well he risks having her lick or bite the digit if he does so. But she only kisses it, her lips plush and soft.

“Stop with that. I accept your apology and forgive you, _cara_, knowing you said those things from a place of pain.” He says, kissing her again.  
“As for you throwing yourself at me, well I understand that too, I am extraordinarily sexy,”

Copia flexes an arm, popping a nicely toned bicep. The Sister giggles, and he continues talking.

“If you had been sober, I would have taken you up on your offer and tickled your taint all evening, but I am a man of some honor.”

“Well thank you for taking care of me,” Serafina says with another giggle.

“You’re welcome, I wouldn’t do it for just anyone,” The Cardinal replies, kissing her lightly before slithering out from under her so he can peel back the covers.  
“Usually when I come across a drunk in the Church I have them sent to the infirmary, or have a Ghoul see them to their dorm. I don’t like dealing with people when they’re drunk, but you, you’re different,”

‘You’re different’. Serafina hears these words a lot, in a variety of tones and contexts. But in this case, it’s incredibly positive. She means something to Copia.

“Like this,” Copia continues, sliding between the covers and patting the mattress.  
“I don’t share my bed with anyone else except my babies,”

Copia’s babies. The six rats (he’d acquired two more since the Sister first started seeing the Cardinal) he kept in his rooms, spoiled and beloved. Copia often said he liked them better than people. Serafina did not blame, nor did she judge him for occasionally sharing his bed with the rats (they slept on the pillows beside his head, or even curled up on his chest). Growing up, she always let Chickenhead and Smokey, the family’s dog and cat, sleep in her bed. Even today she and Sister Calpurnia would let the Church cats in their dorm on cold nights. Like the Cardinal, she often preferred the company of animals. They did not judge her.

“I’m honored,” Serafina says, crawling under the covers beside him, between smooth black silk sheets.

Copia reaches out for her and draws the Sister into his arms. She rests her head on his chest, and drapes a leg over him lazily. Her arms twine around his middle, and they hold each other like that, snuggled together. It’s all so strange, so sweet and strange; the chaste cuddling, the matching pajamas. Dear Satan, it’s almost as if he loves her. Could it be possible? Does the Cardinal love her as she does him? The thought would be more exciting if she weren’t so profoundly tired.

“You should be honored,” Copia jests, pressing soft kisses to the top of her head. She is the only Sibling of Sin allowed to sleep in his bed; usually after a sexual liaison, he has a Ghoul escort his satisfied partner back to their own dorm (or to the Ghoul’s in some cases). He never liked sharing his bed with anyone but the rats, until Sister Serafina came along.

“Now get some sleep,” he continues.  
“Things will look better over breakfast,”

Papa used to say that; that things would look better in the morning or over breakfast. Considering that there would be things like crepes with Nutella and whipped cream made from scratch, he was usually not wrong. Serafina knows she shouldn’t keep on comparing them like this, but she is constantly struck by their similarities, as much as their differences. As the Sister wanders in her sleepy thoughts, Copia continues to kiss her hair. He has also started gently rubbing her back in soothing little circles, and she realizes he’s still speaking a stream of reassuring words:

“I’ll talk to Sister Imperator about Papa tomorrow,”

Serafina lifts her head to protest, but Copia shakes his head gently, and presses a soft kiss to her mouth.

“She’ll be more understanding than you think. She knows how much of an ass Papa can be, better than anyone else alive. They had a huge fight a long time ago, back in 1969. He hurt her so deeply that she actually left the Church for a while,” He tells her.

“Do you know what it was that he did?” the Sister asks, fascinated by this piping hot tea he’s serving.

“Sister Imperator never said, she only said that he’s lucky she decided to come back at all,” Copia shrugs.  
“But it was bad enough to make her leave a place she had devoted her whole life to,”

“But she came back, she forgave him, and they’re still wild about each other. How?” Serafina says with a soft yawn.

“The power of love, I suppose,” The Cardinal replies.

Serafina can’t tell if he’s being facetious or not; she snorts in amusement, burying her face in his chest and shaking with suppressed laughter.

“The power of love? Did you seriously just say those words?” She wheezes into his pajama shirt.

The Cardinal blushes and mumbles under his breath. When she’s pulled herself together, Serafina lifts her head back up and kisses his nose.

“You’re a goofball,” She says warmly.  
“But you’re right; love makes all kinds of shit possible.”

The Sister wants to say more, so much more, but she doesn’t. Instead she kisses him goodnight, this time on his lips, those sweet plush pillows she adores. Then she settles back down, resting her head on Copia’s chest, her ear searching for the steady drum of his heartbeat.

“It does,” Copia agrees, as the Serafina closes her eyes.  
“After all, I don’t share my bed with just anyone,”

It’s as close he can get to telling her he loves her. He hopes she’ll catch his meaning, but if she does she makes no sign of it. The Sister yawns, an infectious one that has him doing it too. Then, he feels the arm wrapped around his middle squeeze him lightly. Maybe she did understand him, after all.

  
Serafina inhales the good, clean smell of the Cardinal as she cuddles against him. She’s vaguely caught the drift of his comment about sharing his bed, he’s definitely hinting at something, but oh she’s too tired to think about it. She’ll think about it later. Right now, she wants to sleep, sleep and have him hold her like this forever. It doesn’t take long for Copia and Sister Serafina to drift off, snuggled together like the rats in their enclosure. A peaceful hush has fallen over the Church at last, as all its living occupants are at last snug in their beds.

Shortly before dawn, Copia wakes up from a recurring nightmare where he’s turned into a Muppet. He jolts upright, and rolls up a sleeve to make sure his arm is made of flesh and not felt. When he is reassured that he is made of flesh, he looks over to see if the Sister is still there. He doesn’t know why he’s worried about her sneaking out on him. But such anxiety is misplaced; Serafina is sprawled out on the other side of the bed, having rolled out of his embrace in her sleep. He feels strangely cold without her, and so lies down and pulls her back into his arms, clutching her to him like a child does a beloved teddy bear. The Cardinal buries his face into the Sister’s hair, and as he does he is surprised to hear her suddenly mutter in her sleep:

“_Te amo…te amo_…”

Copia freezes. _Te amo_ means I love you. He holds his breath, waiting to see if she’ll say anything more. She does. A name falls from Serafina’s lips. It is his.

“Copia”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do your teeth hurt? Did your blood sugar rise while consuming that sweet sweet fluff? I know mine did while writing it! Thanks for reading, stay tuned for the smut!


	4. A Wonderful Way to Start the Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a heart to heart and surprise matching pajamas, Serafina and Copia finally get some rest. Copia finds that Serafina says some very interesting things in her sleep.  
Now it's morning, and the Cardinal finds that there's some benefits to sharing his bed with a human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's your smut! Please, I suggest keeping towels handy while reading this chapter. You will need them.  
As always, I make no money. Copia and the Ghouls are not intended on resembling any actual person but are inspired by stage personas. This work is not for people under 18, no excuses, no exceptions.

Pale golden light fills the bedroom hitting Sister Serafina’s face. She stirs, and the Sister is pleasantly surprised to find that she’s not hungover. By some unholy miracle, she’s not hungover, and she’s not alone in her bed, either. Instead, Serafina finds herself waking up in the Cardinal’s bed, toasty warm. Copia has an arm around her waist, and he’s holding her tightly, tucked perfectly into the curve of his body. She loves being the little spoon. His breath is warm and lovely on her neck, and the Sister can feel a hard rod pressed against her ass. Well now, what’s this? Serafina flushes with a sweet, sleepy sort of desire, and wonders how she can wake the Cardinal up for a nice lazy morning fuck. Luckily, she doesn’t need to brainstorm very long. Serafina can feel his lips on the back of her neck, pressing soft but possessive kisses onto her skin.

“Are you awake?” Copia whispers.

“Yes,” The Sister whispers back, thrilled at her good fortune. The Cardinal starts to roll his hips against her, grinding his cock into her ass.

“Good,” He growls softly, sliding a hand up her pajama shirt to cup one of her full breasts.

Neither of them is thinking about the previous night, or any of its events, good or ill. Serafina and Copia are thinking of nothing but how amazing the other one feels. The Cardinal’s fingers pull and the nipple of the breast he’s cupped, turning it into a stiff peak. His mouth latches hungrily onto her neck, biting and sucking the skin, marking her up as he likes to do. The Sister gives a soft moan of pleasure. Copia is still grinding against her ass through their silk pajamas. Heat pools in her belly and between her legs. She needs more of him.

Serafina reaches behind her, and tugs at the Cardinal’s pajama bottoms until his cock springs free. She grasps it and Copia groans and ruts eagerly into her hand. As he does, his own hand moves down her body and dips down the front of the Sister’s bottoms. His long fingers part her nether lips and find her clit. Copia makes slow teasing circles, and is gratified to feel Serafina’s hips buck, and hear her cry out. This encourages him to move his fingers faster, bite her neck harder.

“Oh Copia,” The Sister finally manages to gasp, absolutely burning with desire for him.  
“I need you inside me, please,”

The Cardinal groans at these words, at the way she says his name. She needs him; his cock throbs at the thought.

“Yes,” he growls softly, yanking her PJ pants down over her hips. Serafina wiggles and kicks until they’re all the way off, her lower half stripped naked.

Copia hoists the Sister Serafina’s leg over his so he can glide his length through the soaked folds of her pussy, reveling in the whimpers she makes as he does so. Then, he starts to push his way inside of her, going slowly; this angle tends to make the Sister seem twice as tight and snug.

  
“Fuck,” Serafina gasps, her body thrumming with pleasure.

When the Cardinal is halfway inside her, the head of his cock pressing against the Sister’s g-spot, he pauses and bends so he can capture Serafina’s mouth with his in a deep kiss. Morning breath be damned. For a moment, Copia is agonizingly still, not moving his hips at all, but thrusting his tongue against her own. Then, before Serafina can break the kiss to beg him to please start moving, he gives a few shallow thrusts that hit the sweet spot inside her in a way that makes the Sister moan into his mouth. What a wonderful way to start the morning.

Slowly, the Cardinal starts to thrust a little more deeply, until he finds himself buried inside her fully. The head of his cock is now nudging against her cervix, and he breaks the kiss to check her face for signs of discomfort. Sometimes, with his substantial size, Copia finds that the line between pleasure and pain can become hopelessly blurred for his partners.

“You OK?” He gasps softly. Serafina’s eyes are glazed over in a kind of ecstasy, and a dreamy smile dances on her lips.

  
“Wonderful,” She coos, and it’s true.  
“You feel so good,”

The Cardinal’s length throbs at Sister Serafina’s praise. To reward her, he starts to move again, holding her leg up, fingers gripping her thick thigh as he sets a steady but gentle pace. The Sister’s soft moans are music to his ears, sweeter than any morning birdsong.

“And you take my cock so well,” Copia grunts in reply.

He bites her earlobe, relishing the soft wail Serafina makes, before moving his mouth onto her neck and marking her up, sucking and biting the skin there.

“Don’t wear your veil today; don’t hide your neck,” The Cardinal continues, placing a particularly hard bite on her skin.  
“I want everyone to see that you’re mine,”

Sister Serafina gives a yelp at the sweet sting of his teeth, and the dark seduction of his words. In this bed, on this morning, she does belong to Copia in some small way, as much as she can belong to anyone else. She’ll do as he requests, and wear her habit without the veil and wimple today, exposing her neck and displaying the Cardinal’s love bites like badges of honor. But that’s later; right now she has more pressing concerns. Copia moves his hips faster, and his hand moves from the Sister’s thigh, sliding up her body to cup one of her breasts.

The Cardinal had always been an ass man, but there’s just something about Sister Serafina’s tits that he loves. It’s been this way ever since she first wore and removed that black corset of hers. When they’re together, Copia can’t keep his hands or his mouth off of them. He loves the way her nipples stiffen under his fingers and tongue, the way her breasts bounce in time with his thrusts. Oh, the Cardinal loves making her ass wobble during sex too, but there’s just some about the Sister’s tits he finds fascinating.

Serafina gives a wail as Copia pinches and teases her nipple, making it tighten under his skilled fingers. He had once confessed to her that he had always been an ass man, until he first saw her in and out of that black corset of hers. The Cardinal has been practically obsessed with them ever since, focusing on them during foreplay, or just burying his face in them, hugging her by the waist and inhaling gratefully. Sometimes she wears the corset during their sessions, usually when she’s the Dom. Of course, Copia has bought her more corsets since then, corsets made of leather and vinyl, some of them with straps and buckles, D-rings and grommets. Even so, she still likes to wear the OG corset for the sake of nostalgia, a reminder of their early days, of that first evening they spent together.

But Sister Serafina isn’t thinking about her growing corset collection. She can only think of her growing pleasure, a hot coil in her belly that is being wound tighter with each thrust of the Cardinal’s hips. Serafina finds herself alternately panting and holding her breath, a development that is not lost on Copia.

“Are you close?” He purrs.

The Sister nods, and manages a shaky ‘yes’.

“Good,” Copia growls.  
“Now roll over, I want to see your face when you come, _bella_,”

He pulls away, and deftly flips Sister Serafina onto her back. The Cardinal settles between her spread thighs and looks down at the Sister. He frowns when he sees Serafina’s pajama top.

“Unbutton this,” Copia says with another growl, tugging at the garment.

The Sister obeys, fumbling with the buttons to expose her breasts. It’s easier said than done, considering that the Cardinal is teasing and distracting her by rubbing his cock between her wet folds. But eventually, Serafina gets her top open, and the silk falls away, revealing her breasts and belly.

“Sweet Lucifer, you’re beautiful,” Copia says reverently, gazing at the curvaceous woman underneath him. Her hair is fanned out across the pillow and her pupils are blown wide with lust.

Then, the Cardinal reenters her with a single thrust. Sister Serafina’s pretty mouth falls open in a moan, and her eye flutter closed, her lashes brushing her cheeks like moth wings. Looking at her face in the golden morning light, he feels a sudden swell of emotion. It’s a heady combination of lust and adoration that makes Copia dizzy.

“I thank Satan every day for sending you to my office that afternoon,” He murmurs as he starts to slowly roll his hips, moving inside Serafina in a way that makes her gasp and writhe under him.

The Sister basks in the pleasure from his lovemaking and his words. Copia’s being so sweet with her, so tender. After her unpleasant encounter with Nihil in the gallery, it’s comforting, almost cathartic, even. Serafina look up at the Cardinal, at his pouty lips and spell binding eyes. His expression is at once ravenous and reverent; she’s seen it on his face during certain Rituals. It’s an expression of lust and devotion.

Copia reaches between them, down where their bodies are joined and settles his thumb over the Sister’s clit. He starts to make the slow teasing circles that he knows will drive Serafina wild, and as he does, his other hand picks up one of hers, lacing their fingers together. All the while praises tumble from the Cardinal’s lips, a stream of Italian and English complimenting various parts of her body, and imparting endearments. At one point, he calls Sister Serafina a goddess. Yet even as Copia lovingly rambles on, his thumb and his hips continue to move, picking up their pace ever so slightly, determined on pushing her over the edge.

Serafina grips the pillow above her head with her free hand, while the other squeezes the Cardinal’s with each snap of his hips. She’s close to orgasm, and utterly dazzled by bounty of sweet words being aimed in her direction. From what Italian she knows, the Sister learns that she has the best breasts in the Church. But she already knew that.

“Come for me,” Copia purrs, listening to her pant and whimper, feeling her start to shake and tremble.  
“Come for me, _bella_,”

Apparently, climaxing at the Cardinal’s command is the Serafina’s special talent, for within moments she finds herself succumbing to waves of ecstasy, a gorgeous blooming sensation that starts between her legs and spreads throughout her whole body. Copia groans when he feels the Sister’s inner walls involuntarily clench and spasm around his cock. He can hear his name on her lips.

As the tremors of Sister Serafina’s orgasm starts to subside, Copia drops down to his elbows, pressing his chest and stomach against hers, and dropping his face into her neck. Now that he has the Sister taken care of, he can focus on his own end, and lose himself in the paradise that is her flesh. Serafina twines her free arm around his back and shoulders, sliding under his pajama shirt so she can feel the warmth of his skin. She also wraps he legs around Copia’s waist, pulling him close to her as his thrusts become deeper and more erratic. Her soft and lush curves envelop the Cardinal entirely, just as he likes it. If Copia believed in heaven, this would be it.

Sweet Lucifer, he’s close. His entire being feels like a roaring inferno, stoked by each snap of his hips. The Cardinal can feel himself begin to tremble slightly, as he’s consumed by the fire of his lust. Sister Serafina hugs him to her more tightly, and Copia dimly wonders if she can tell that he’s going to come soon.

She can tell. The Sister has learned the Cardinal’s body language, and the pattern of his erotic response better than any text in the Church’s library. He’s shaking in her arms, as if he’s suffering from a fever, and she can hear Copia’s breath come faster, accentuated by grunts and growls. Occasionally, he bites or kisses her neck, nuzzling it with his handsome beak of a nose.

“Look at me,” Serafina whispers softly, her lips against his ear.  
“I want to see your face when you come, too,”

The Cardinal does as she says, and lifts his head from her to gaze into her eyes, those obsidian wells, those hooks for the soul. The Sister smiles, and then laces her fingers through his hair, the silky chestnut strands she loves so much. She presses her mouth against Copia’s, kissing him deeply, thrusting her tongue against his and gently tugging on his hair. He groans into the Serafina’s mouth and rocks his hips faster, with an almost feral need.

Sister Serafina breaks the kiss to look up into the Cardinal’s face; at his flushed cheeks, his eyes shut in concentration, and his open, panting mouth. Oh yes, he is definitely not far off. All he needs is a little push. Serafina thinks of the groan Copia made when she tugged his hair a moment ago. Inspired, she does it again. The Cardinal gasps this time, then whimpers slightly.

“You gonna come?” The Sister purrs. When he nods, she continues talking.  
“Go on and let it out, baby. Fill me up, I wanna feel it,”

Serafina tugs his hair a final time as she says these words, and that does the trick. Copia gives a great groan and empties himself into her, dropping his face back into the crook of her neck and sinking his teeth into the Sister’s skin. Serafina gasps at the sting of his love bite, and at the hot sensation spreading deep inside her. Then, the Cardinal gives a few final pumps, and goes still. He’s collapsed against her, and she welcomes the comfort of his weight on her body.

They’re silent, basking in the afterglow of what can only be called lovemaking. Or as close to lovemaking as they can get, considering how much the Rat Boy likes getting his hair pulled. Outside their microcosm, the rest of the Church is going about the morning’s routine. People are going to breakfast, and taking showers. Ghouls are polishing their masks, and Sister Imperator is at her morning devotions, running her fingers over the Grucifix adorned rosary she’s carried since girlhood. Rumor has it that Papa Nihil is still in bed, he hadn’t been able to get any sleep all night, only managing to doze fitfully for an hour or so before dawn.

But neither Serafina nor Copia knows any of these things. They know nothing except the softness of each other’s skin, and the sound of their breaths as they come back down to Earth. At last, Copia lifts his head and looks into the Sister’s eyes. He looks at her with a gaze filled with so much tenderness that it makes her heart flutter a little.

“Serafina…” He begins, running a thumb over her lower lip.

She holds her breath. This is it. He’s finally going to admit it. He’s finally going to tell her he loves her, and when he does she’ll say it back…

“Do you want breakfast?” the Cardinal asks.  
“I’m thinking…waffles?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! What a wonderful way to start the day! Next chapter is gonna be all PLOT. Maybe a little fluff.


	5. Arcane Knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having started the morning right, Copia and Serafina are ready to have some god damn waffles.  
Copia makes a startling discovery.  
Sister Serafina shows a surprising amount of sympathy. Or is it empathy?  
Sister Imperator shows her soft side.  
The Swiss Army Ghoul has some advice.  
Confessions are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No heavy smut in this chapter, but there's graphic descriptions of post sex...messiness. There is also cannabis use in this chapter, however, but if you're a regular reader of this series, I'm sure you've come to expect nothing less of Sister Serafina.  
Lots of character and world building, plus callbacks to previous stories in the series!

Sister Serafina does in fact, want breakfast. Sex that fantastic tends to work up an appetite, you know, and waffles do sound pretty good. She’s only mildly disappointed that she didn’t get to hear those three magic words, but it’s alright. Serafina knows that offering to feed someone is its own expression of love. Breakfast is fine. Copia pushes himself up and off of the Sister, pulling his withering member out of her. The Sister is left with a slippery sense of emptiness, and she is about to wrap her arms around the Cardinal for a cuddle, when he rolls out of bed. She pouts, but he doesn’t notice.

“I’ll make a call to the kitchens,” Copia announces, as he fixes himself back into his PJ pants.  
“We’ll have breakfast up here; it’ll be nice to eat without an audience,”

Serafina agrees, and sits up to look around for her own pajama bottoms. The Cardinal watches her, and as he does so, he can’t help but glance at the space between her legs. Copia can see his unholy seed leaking out of her, and onto the sheets. There’s something pleasing about the sight; it makes him feel a swell of pride. The Sister catches him staring, and looks down between her thighs. Ugh, she thought she’d felt a gush when she sat up, but she was hoping it was only the contents shifting, and not a squelchy exodus of potential Little Cardinals.

“Clean up on aisle 7,” Serafina quips, leaping out of bed, and snatching her PJ pants off the floor.

She makes a bow-legged, waddling dash for the bathroom so she can freshen up. It’s also important to always pee after sex, so that’s on the agenda as well. She hears Copia chuckle behind her, but she ignores it like she does the dripping sensation on her thighs.

The door shut behind her, the Sister makes use of the black porcelain throne, wishing the Cardinal hadn’t had the bidet removed. It had always made the post-coital clean up so much easier. Instead, she must make do with a warm wet washcloth, wiping herself down gently. As she does, Serafina hopes none of Copia’s magic potion niveous is left lingering inside her. Sometimes, she’ll wash up; thinking all’s well that ends well. But later in the day Sister Serafina will be doing her chores, or kneeling for Mass, and she’ll feel a sudden deluge of leftover spunk soak her underwear. Maybe most of it got on the sheets this time.

Serafina puts on her pajama pants, and buttons up the top. She’s glad that a sticky mess is all she has to worry about these days. After a minor pregnancy scare last summer, the Sister has finally gone back on birth control. She looks in the mirror, running her fingers through her curls, and inspecting the love bites on her necks. She sighs. Between the Cardinal and the Ghouls she feels like a human chew toy.

While Sister Serafina is in the bathroom, Copia orders breakfast. Then, he goes about giving the rats their breakfast. As he doles out their food, he notices that one of the females, a little black and white beauty named Rosa, has gained some weight. Upon closer inspection, the Cardinal realizes that the rat is pregnant. His eyes widen and he gives a surprised little squeak. How did this happen? He’s always tried to keep the rats separated, to avoid this very situation, but he guesses he was no better at enforcing abstinence than the Catholic Church is. But even so, he still feels a rush of excitement. Babies! Copia shouts for the Sister.

Serafina runs out of the bathroom, expecting…well she’s not sure what she’s expecting, but it’s certainly not the sight of Copia cradling Rosa in his hands with an expression of reverent awe.

“What is it? Is Rosa ok?” She asks.

“She’s pregnant,” The Cardinal whispers.  
“And I don’t know how it happened,”

“Well, when a Mommy Rat and a Daddy Rat love each other very much, they drink a little vino and share a special hug where the Daddy Rat puts his penis in the Mommy Rat’s **VA**-_gina_. Some folks call this making love,” Serafina says with a mock seriousness that makes Copia snort with laughter.

“That’s not what I meant,” He finally says, catching his breath.  
“I did everything I could to keep them breeding, they’ll pop out babies likes Mormons if you let them,”

“Life, uh…finds a way,” the Sister says, doing her best Jeff Goldblum impression as she gives Rosa congratulatory pets.

“We’ll throw her a baby shower; make her a little maternity smock. We can start calling you _Nonno_ Copia,”

The Cardinal gives another chuckle, and gently places the rat back into the enclosure. She waddles back to the food and starts eating with both wee paws. While Copia watches his beloved Rosa shove vittles in her sweet little face, Serafina wanders over to the couch and throws herself onto it with a thump.

“Bathroom’s free if you want it. I can wait for our breakfast,” She yawns.

Copia excuses himself, and saunters to the W.C., leaving Sister Serafina alone with the rats. From her vantage point on the couch she can see them finish their breakfast, and go about their little ratty day. The impending arrival of the baby rats is a blessing in disguise; they’ll distract the Cardinal from his current habit of dropping not-so-subtle hints about how she’d make a beautiful Prime Mover, or that she’d be a wonderful mother someday. Any other Sister of Sin would be honored to have him say such things, thrilled even, but it only makes Serafina nervous.

She’s roused from her musings by a knock on the door. That must be one of the Ghouls with breakfast. The Sister hops up and trots over to the door to open it. She’s surprised to see that Sister Sheep Eyes is the one pushing the meal cart today. (Her name is actually Sister Juliet, and she likes to fancy that Copia is her Romeo, destined to be hers, despite the fact that the Cardinal hasn’t spent much time with her since her Initiation Rite. But a girl can dream, can’t she?) Serafina no longer feels surges of jealousy when she see the Junior Sister gaze longingly at the Cardinal during Mass, or when he asks her to walk in the garden with him. Instead she feels something akin to sympathy. Or is it empathy? All she knows is that she has nothing to fear from Sister Sheep Eyes.

In fact, Serafina’s currently feeling an unusual pang of guilt at having Sister Juliet see her here. The girl must have been so excited to deliver breakfast to the Cardinal, hoping he’d notice her, speak to her, maybe more. But here’s Sister Serafina, answering the door in silk pajamas like she owns the place. There is an awkward silence; why couldn’t it have been a Ghoul or a Ghoulette who brought things up? At least they’d have something to say and not stare at Serafina like a traumatized goldfish.

  
The awkward silence is broken by Copia bounding out of the bathroom. He sees the Junior Sister with the breakfast cart, and gives a pleased nod.

“Ah, good morning Sister Juliet,” He says, rubbing his naked hands together.  
“Thank you for bringing this up,”

It would have been less awkward if she had walked in on them fucking. Sister Juliet turns various shades of red and white when she sees Copia, sans face paint, wearing a pair of pajamas that match Sister Serafina’s. They look so intimate, so domestic; it’s a deeply uncomfortable sight for the Junior Sister. But even as her stomach flip-flops with a hurricane of emotions, she cannot help blushing with pleasure and smiling. The Cardinal has remembered her name, and said good morning, even if he is playing House with the infamous Serafina.

After Sister Juliet leaves, Copia sets up a living room picnic on the coffee table, while Sister Serafina lays cushions on the floor. Waffles, whipped cream and Nutella, fresh fruit (strawberries to be specific) and coffee. Then they settle down, and tuck into breakfast. There isn’t much by way of conversation, they’re both ravenous. The waffles are good; the Church kitchens always make them from scratch.

  
While they are finishing up, the Cardinal breaks the silence by announcing that he is going to talk to Sister Imperator about Papa Nihil as soon as he possibly can. He and the Abbess are both very busy people, their schedules packed tight as sardines. But he intends to make this issue a priority, not wanting to Sister Serafina to wallow in anxiety if he can help it.

“She’s the only person Papa will listen to. Mostly.” Copia says, finishing his coffee. A single drop glistens on his mustache before he wipes it away like a rat cleaning his face.

“In the meantime, go about your duties as usual. Don’t worry about a thing. You’re not in any trouble for sneaking out last night either, I think running into Papa last night was punishment enough. He’s been very difficult lately,”

“Lately? He’s always been a bit of a Primadonna,” Serafina says archly. Even so, she can’t help but break into a relieved smile. Things are indeed looking better over breakfast, or at least the remains of breakfast.

She’s rewarded by Copia’s laugh, she loves to make him laugh. When she’s not amusing him with her quips and witty observations, the Sister tells him bad jokes. He likes the ones about priests and nuns the best.

“Thank you,” Serafina adds, looking down at the table to make a pentagram out of discarded strawberry leaves.

“You’re welcome, _cara_,” The Cardinal replies, watching her hands. The Sister can never stay still for very long. Sometimes, he wonders if she has some sort of un-diagnosed attention disorder.

But as much as Copia would like to, he cannot sit and stare at Serafina all day like a lovesick boy. He stands up and dusts himself off; the breakfast dishes will be collected by whoever has housekeeping duty today. Ever the gentleman, he holds out his hand to help the Sister up, but she’s busy stacking the plates and gathering the flatware. She likes to make things easy for whoever cleans up after her, she’s thoughtful that way. He waits for her to finish up.

“Come on, _bella_, let’s get dressed,” Copia suggests, when she does take his offered hand and gets to her feet.

The Sister started keeping some clothes in the Cardinal’s walk-in closet a few months ago. She did the same thing when she got serious with Papa; it’s much more convenient than doing a walk of shame (well, more like pride in this Church) back to one’s dorm in last night’s rumpled ensemble. Serafina does a quick mental inventory of what she has hanging up next to Copia’s suits and cassocks. She’s got three habits in there, one long, and two short. She’ll wear one of the short ones, and as promised, the Sister will leave off her veil and wimple, in order to show off the love bites Copia gave her in bed. Sweet Lucifer, she’s a fool for him…

The Cardinal is mildly surprised to find Serafina suddenly twining her arms around his neck. She pulls him in close, pressing the length of her body against his and nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. He feels a flush of desire flood his body and his own arms wrap around her waist, returning her embrace.

“You should wear your red suit,” The Sister purrs, stroking his silk covered chest, fiddling with the buttons.  
“You look so good in it,”

“Do I?” Copia replies, gasping as she starts to press hot little kisses all over his neck. Slowly, his hands slide down her waist and over her hips, cupping Serafina’s ass.

“Yeah,” Serafina murmurs against his skin, her kisses turning to little bites. She relishes the groan he makes; she can feel his cock start to stir.  
“Like a sexy Twizzler,”

“A what?” The Cardinal pulls away, cocking an eyebrow in puzzlement.

“A Twizzler. A sexy Twizzler,” Sister Serafina repeats.

“W-what’s a Twizzler?” Copia asks, still confused. The man can read, write and speak in several languages, but he doesn’t know what a fucking Twizzler is?

“It’s a kind of candy, like a licorice stick but fruity. It’s long. And red. How the fuck do you not know what a Twizzler is? We have them in the commissary,” Serafina scoffs incredulously.

“But how is a piece of candy sexy?” The Cardinal persists.

The Sister sighs impatiently, not sure how she can explain it any further. Why is he like this? Asking questions and wasting precious time? She doesn’t answer him; instead she grabs Copia by the collar and kisses him hard on the mouth. He melts easily into the kiss, offering her his tongue. He tastes likes coffee.

“Thank Satan you’re so pretty,” Serafina giggles, breaking away so she can spin him around and push him onto the couch.

Copia looks startled but not unhappy, especially when she straddles his thigh and grinds herself against him. The Sister tugs at the waist band of his pajama pants until his cock springs out, hard and ready. She grins and continues speaking:

“And thank our Dark Lord for this dick…”

Much, much later, Serafina and the Cardinal manage to peel themselves off of each other and get dressed. It’s off to their respective morning tasks; he needs to find Sister Imperator, and the Sister is supposed to attend a Latin refresher course. But that started 30 minutes ago, while she was riding Copia like a rodeo horse. Instead, Sister Serafina makes a quick trip to her dorm and raids her cigar box stash, then gets to work.

The Sister takes her freshly rolled blunt and slips outside, knowing exactly where she wants to go. On the outskirts of the sprawling Church gardens, there’s a massive, ancient weeping willow overlooking a small pond. Serafina sits on the stone bench underneath its concealing curtain-like branches, and smokes. Nothing helps her sort out her head like a good smoking session.

Through the willow’s fronds she can see brief glimpses of the pond’s wildlife. There’s a family of ducks, last spring’s babies nearly grown. Teenage ducks. Sister Serafina makes herself remember what she was like as a teenager. Invader Zim shirt from Hot Topic, those wide-legged, strappy, Tripp bondage pants, fishnet arm warmers and thick raccoon eyeliner. Then, she imagines the ducks dressed that way, and dissolves into a fit of giggles. The sound gives her away; a shiny silver head pops through weepy willows fronds. It’s the Swiss Army Ghoul, the multi-talented one, master of arcane knowledge. Leaves catch on his mask’s horns, and it makes him look like a Pagan god, a Satanic incarnation of the Green Man. Serafina yelps in surprise.

“There you are!’ He exclaims.

“Shit! Don’t scare me like that!” The Sister shoots back, hand on her chest.  
“I thought you were that asshole swan that goes around attacking people,”

“Nope, just me,” The Ghoul shrugs, stepping under the tree.  
“Though they really need to do something about that Asshole Swan,”

Serafina nods in agreement and holds out the blunt. Swiss takes it, never one to say no to a little dank kush. He takes a long toke, savoring the taste of the weed combined with the peach flavored blunt wrap. As he does, the Ghoul takes visual inventory of Sister Serafina. She’s wearing her habit with the short A-line skirt and the bell sleeves, but she hasn’t got her wimple on. She’s not even wearing a veil. Her dark curls have been crookedly braided (Copia’s work, but be nice, he’s still learning), showing off rhinestone hoop earrings. The Sister’s exposed neck and collarbones are covered in recent love bites.

“Sister Calpurnia has been flipping out all morning, wondering where you are,” Swiss says as he exhales.

Serafina sighs guiltily. How many times has she scared her roommate by not returning to their dorm after an evening’s revels? And will she ever stop?

“Well, I can tell her that you with the Cardinal at least, judging by the state of your neck,” The multi-talented Ghoul says, settling down beside the errant Sister on the bench.

Serafina has the grace to blush a pretty shade of red.

“Pleeease, these hickeys could have been made by anyone,” She snorts.

“Well, I can also smell him on you, so there’s that. I’m a Ghoul, darling,” Swiss replies.  
“I don’t understand why either of you try to hide it anymore, everyone already knows,”

“Tell me about it,” The Sister groans as he hands her the blunt.

While she takes a hit, the Ghoul watches her carefully. Something’s bothering her, he can sense it. She may be covered in love bites, with that little glint in her eyes that tells him she’s been well-fucked recently, but his gut says there’s more under the surface.

“No, you tell me about it,” Swiss says, gentle but firm.  
“What happened?”

Serafina looks at him as she coughs (don’t cough, don’t get off, someone once told her). Intuitive Swiss. She likes to say that he has The Shining; the Ghoul can always sense when someone’s upset, or undergone some sort of unpleasant ordeal. Even if you yourself don’t realize anything is wrong, the Ghoul sniffs it out like an emotion detecting bloodhound. It’s no use hiding or denying your troubles around him either, he’ll coax it out of you. He’s easy to open up to, kind and non-judgmental. Besides Copia, Swiss is one of the only people who know her true origins.

So the Sister tells him about her run-in with Papa Nihil, how the old man got her to confess that she had loved his son, before blaming her for the Third’s downfall. The Ghoul winces inside his mask; he’d always gotten along with Nihil, they’d once had a very good conversation about the history of American Jazz. Hearing about this leaves him shocked and disgusted, a slimy feeling. Swiss knows anyone else would accuse her of lying, that she’s just bearing a grudge. But Swiss knows when people are lying, and she’s telling the truth.

Serafina’s tale continues; she describes Copia unexpectedly coming to the rescue, and her meltdown in front of the stained glass window. She tells the Ghoul how the Cardinal took her back to his quarters to sober up, and spend the night.

“But don’t worry,” She giggles, the weed starting to take hold.  
“He gave me these marks this morning, once I was sober,”

“I never doubted the Cardinal’s honor for a second,” Swiss smiles.  
“But is he going to defend your honor? Did you tell him what Papa said to you?”

“I did,” Sister Serafina nods, passing the blunt.  
“And he’s not happy about it. He’s going to talk to Sister Imperator sometime today,”

“That’s good; hopefully she’ll listen to him. She usually does,” The Ghoul says.  
“But if the rumors are true, you may have already been avenged.”

The Sister turns to look at him quizzically. What could he possibly mean by that? Did someone put a pillow over the old geezer’s face?

“People are saying that last night, Papa was visited by the ghosts of his sons.” Swiss says, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.  
“The First and the Second stayed in opposite corners of the room, but the Third stood at the foot of his father’s bed, pointing at him with a skeletal finger. None of them said a word, they just stared all night. He didn’t sleep a wink, or at least he didn’t sleep much.”

Considering how haunted the Abbey is, honeycombed with corpses in and out, the Ghoul could certainly believe such a rumor. He’s seen quite a few strange things here, hell; he is a strange thing once his Glamour comes off. Besides, there have been quite a few sightings of the Papas’ disembodied specters in the past few weeks. Or at least that’s what people are saying.

Serafina makes a hum of satisfaction. When your ancestors hail from the Caribbean and the Emerald Isle, you become quite familiar with a plethora of spirits and other creatures of the night. She thinks briefly of her great grandmother, her grandfather’s mother, Maeve Delaney, telling tales of banshees, kelpies and will o’ wisps.

“That’s good to hear,” She says traitorously, venturing to crack a smile.  
“But don’t tell anyone I said that,”

“My lips are sealed,” Swiss says, and he leans over and gives her a soft kiss on the mouth, sweet as a promise.

Then the Sister and the Ghoul finish the blunt together, passing it back and forth while they watch the family of ducks through a (secular) haze of peach wrap and blueberry kush scented smoke. It’s peaceful as fuck, and for the first time in over eight hours, Serafina’s thoughts and anxieties are finally put to rest. Her world shrinks to a pleasant snow globe of yellow and green willow leaves, swaying in the late morning breeze. Fall is coming, and she can smell its crispness already. It really is a beautiful day. The kind of day that would have given Jean-Jacques Rousseau a throbbing philosophical boner. She has this beautiful day, good weed, the Swiss Army Ghoul by her side, and ducks. Sister Serafina sighs, and rests her head on Swiss’ shoulder.

Outside of the Sister’s golden microcosm, Cardinal Copia is describing the events of the previous evening to Sister Imperator. He repeats everything Serafina told him, as well as his own interactions with the old man. She seems to be listening intently; at least he hopes she is. Sister Imperator has always had somewhat of a soft spot for him, always defending him when Papa Nihil complains, and getting especially annoyed with those who disrespect him. Copia’s earliest memories are of Sister Imperator coming to visit him at the Church orphanage run by the Ministry in Florence. She came to see him at least once month throughout his childhood, bringing gifts and treats. Candies and teddy bears with demon horns when he was little, books as he got older. Then, one day when he was nine, Imperator arrived at the orphanage to tell the boy that he was to come with her. He was being transferred to her Ministry in Sweden because he showed such promise as a scholar; the young Copia had the potential to go very far in the Church. He would be educated alongside Papa Nihil’s spoiled youngest son, an incredible honor for a shy, strange boy of mysterious origins. From then onward, Sister Imperator had taken Copia under her wing, guiding him. She was the only one who seemed to believe in him. And now, decades later, the Cardinal finds himself hoping she’ll remember her almost maternal fondness for him, and not side with Papa Nihil on this matter.

Sister Imperator for her part is not very surprised by what she hears; Papa has never been very good at taking responsibility for his own actions. His favorite kind of goat is a scapegoat. And Sister Serafina, with her somewhat dubious reputation, is a convenient one. Imperator herself does not believe that Serafina had anything to do with the Third’s downfall. That kazoo playing dumbass was capable screwing up all by himself. For once, the Errant Sister of Sin is entirely innocent, and Sister Imperator actually feels bad for her.

“I’ll talk to Papa,” Imperator says at last, tenting her fingers and giving a weary sigh.  
“Sister Serafina is blameless in this regard, although there is the matter of he sneaking out after curfew, and that shall have to be addressed,”

“I will have…a word with the Sister later today,” Copia says. He’d wanted to talk to her about it right after breakfast, but then she’d tossed him on the couch and started riding his thigh.

Sister Imperator raises an eyebrow. Is the Cardinal being literal? Or is he referring to the unorthodox method of discipline he inherited from the Third Emeritus?

“I’m sure you will,” She replies carefully.

“I worry about her, Sister,” Copia says abruptly, practically mumbling.  
“When she sneaks out like that. I worry something might happen to her, that she won’t come back. I don’t know what I would do if I lost her,”

Sister Imperator is only mildly surprised by this confession. She knows that the Cardinal is fond of Sister Serafina, that the younger woman has become his muse, the inspiration behind some of his most passionate and moving sermons. She’s seen the heated glances they exchange during Mass, or passing each other in the halls; it’s the same look she used to share with Papa Nihil back in the day, the promise of pleasure. The Church’s Abbess has spent the past year wondering if Copia is in love with Sister Serafina, as well as suspecting that the Errant Sister reciprocates those feelings. That girl can play tough all she wants, but underneath that attitude is something tender and almost vulnerable, a desire to be soft. Imperator had been the same way in her younger days. Oh, she remembers how she looked in those days, with her high blonde ponytail, eyes like smoky gems lined with kohl. While the other Sisters of Sin were dressing in flowy hippie dresses, or mod rectangular frocks with white lipstick and bobbed hair, Sister Imperator liked to stand out in the crowd, wearing sharply tailored dresses that showed off her trim figure. All dark colors and jewel tones; leather and vinyl, brocade and silk. Not much different from some of Serafina’s sartorial choices, really. But underneath all that, Imperator was a young woman who would not have minded being allowed to be soft and gentle once in a while. Sometimes she would have liked it if Papa had treated her like he did his Prime Movers, the mothers of his now dead sons. He cosseted them, treated them like princesses. Terzo’s mother in particular, had been Imperator’s polar opposite; flower crown on waist length loose black hair, gauzy white gowns with Juliet sleeves. Papa had been especially sweet on her, and decades later, Sister Imperator was still bitter.

Imperator has spent so long staring off into space during her trip down memory lane that Copia is starting to worry a little. He’s been concerned about her ever since her car accident last year, she’s been different ever since. The words ‘traumatic brain injury’ run through his head.

“Sister Imperator?” The Cardinal whispers, leaning in a little.

The Abbess shakes her head like an etch-a-sketch, bringing herself back to the present. She turns her attention back to Copia.

“I must ask you something, my Cardinal,” She says at last.  
“And I want the truth; are you in love with Sister Serafina?”

Meanwhile, out in the gardens, Swiss and Serafina have turned the blunt into a roach.

“You know, Sister Calpurnia and I aren’t the only ones who fret when you sneak out,” The Ghoul says, watching Serafina slip the roach and lighter into her pocket. The Sisters of Sin fought to get pockets in their uniforms, passed a petition around and everything. He was one of the first to sign it.  
“Copia worries about you too. If he knows you’re gone, and not with one of us Ghouls or the Ghoulettes, he’ll sit up all night drinking gin, unable to sleep,”

Sister Serafina thinks back to all the times she’s run off for a night on the town; the day after, the Cardinal would be inexplicably exhausted. He’d drink cups of strong coffee, or nap on his office couch. Once she even caught him gracelessly chugging a Monster energy drink. It was incredibly awkward. But she hadn’t thought much about it, just sort of assumed he’d been up all night reading again. Now that she knows the truth; oh her heart…Serafina hates knowing she’s caused him any sort of anxiety.

“Oh, my poor Honey Rat…” She sighs at last.  
“I guess it’s finally time to quit sneaking out after curfew. I didn’t mean to make him worry. I mean, I know I tease him and threaten to make him eat random objects, I know I can be a pain in the ass, but I don’t want to hurt him…”

Swiss doesn’t know what amazes him more, the fact that Sister Serafina is willing to give up one of her bad habits, or how vulnerable she’s letting herself be right now. She rarely shows her tender side. Ghouls aren’t the only ones who wear masks around here; hers is a figurative one, but a mask all the same. He finds himself wondering if Serafina is in love with Cardinal Copia. The Ghoul has seen the pair when she accompanies the Cardinal on his evening walk. Copia will take the Sister’s arm in his so gently, and watches her as if she were a work of art. A painting by Goya or Van Gogh, or maybe the stained glass that illuminates every part of the Church in lurid, glorious color. The Ghoul has seen how Serafina and Copia look when they return from their walk, hair mussed, the Sister resting her head on Copia’s should with a peaceful and content expression, glowing with pleasure.

“Ground control to Major Swiss?” Serafina’s voice shakes the Ghoul out of his thoughts, and he turns to look at her.

“I’m sorry,” He says.  
“I just never thought I’d hear you say you’d stop sneaking out,”

“Well, I don’t want to upset Copia anymore,” The Sister says with a shrug.  
“I hate knowing he’s lost sleep over me,”

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Swiss asks bluntly.  
“And don’t give me any bullshit, I want the truth,”

Back in Sister Imperator’s office, faced with the same question vice versa, the Cardinal stares at the Abbess with wide eyes. He did not expect her to ask him that. He flounders for a moment, trying to guess her intentions and find the right words to say. But he knows that the only option is to tell the truth. With a deep breath, he gives Imperator his answer.

“Yes. Yes, I’m in love with her,” Copia says in a soft exhale.

It’s like a weight off his chest; he’s been hiding these feelings for so long. Before the Sister can reply, Copia finds more words tumbling out.

“There’s no one at this Church like her. Everyone always wants something from me, expects so much of me. The other Sisters of Sin are constantly trying to impress me, trying to get my attention. People are always seeking favors, and the ass-kissing, Sister, oh the ass-kissing…but Serafina is different, I don’t know how to explain it,”

“I think I know what you mean,” Sister Imperator says at last, when he finally stops rambling. When you’re a high-ranking member of the clergy, it’s hard to know who is being real with you, and who is only using you to get what they want, or further their own ambitions.

“I can be myself with her,” Copia adds, slumping back in his seat, looking out the window. He wonders where his Errant Sister of Sin is now; he knows she skipped her Latin Refresher Course.

“That’s very important,” Imperator says tenderly, looking at the Cardinal trying to slouch in his tight red suit. Strange that he’s not wearing his cassock today.  
“I’m glad you’ve found someone to share that with, even if it is Serafina,”

Sister Imperator has definitely softened some since her car accident. It was only by Satan’s Unholy Grace alone that the Abbess survived going over that cliff. It was a new woman the doctors cut from that body cast, a woman resolved to be sweeter to those she held dear to her heart.

“So tell me,” Imperator asks at last.  
“Does she feel the same way?”

Of course, the Church elder already has an inkling that Copia’s feelings are reciprocated by Sister Serafina. She’s seen that girl fall head over heels in love before; she just needs to know if the Cardinal has any idea. He’s very book smart, speaks several languages; but he’s hopelessly clueless when it comes to communicating with actual people. The Cardinal gives her a look reminiscent of a deer in the headlights.

Copia stares at Imperator, thinking of what Serafina had muttered in her sleep last night. “_Te amo_, Copia” “I love you, Copia,”

He’s been thinking about it all morning. He wanted to ask Sister Serafina what she had dreamed about, but he couldn’t make the words move past his lips.

“I think she does,” The Cardinal says at last, shy and soft.

“You think she does? Lucifer help me,” Sister Imperator sighs.  
“Have you considered talking to her? Asking her how she feels?”

Copia stutters an unintelligible response, his face red as his suit, before going silent. His hands flutter helplessly, the leather of his gloves creaking. With his wide paint-ringed eyes and nervous grabby hands, he looks like a raccoon caught digging in the garbage.

Talk to her?” He squeaks.  
“But Sister, she’s so proud. Would she even admit it?”

Under the Willow Tree, Sister Serafina is staring at Swiss with an expression almost identical to the one the Cardinal is currently giving Sister Imperator. The Ghoul meets her startled eyes with his own gentle and patient gaze. He wants the truth? No bullshit? Well, maybe it’s about time she told someone. Serafina takes a deep breath and gives Swiss her answer.

“Yes. Yes, I’m in love with him,” She confesses, holding her Grucifix tightly between her fingers.  
“I tried fighting it, I didn’t want to fall in love again…I mean what if I lose him too?”

“Then you should tell him how you feel, especially if you’re worried about losing him,” Swiss replies.  
If, Lucifer Forbid, something were to happen to the Cardinal, could you live with the regret of knowing you had a chance to tell him and didn’t? At least Papa died knowing that you loved him.”

“As he loved me,” Serafina says softly.  
“But what if I tell Copia and he doesn’t feel the same way?

But even as she says those words, she knows they’re a pile of bullshit, a needless anxiety. The Ghoul thinks so too.

“Are you kidding me?” He laughs.  
“The Cardinal worships you! You'll see, go on and ask him how feels,”

“Yes, but would he even tell me? Could he? He’s got the social skills of a…egg,” Sister Serafina replies doubtfully.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Swiss says, standing up. He holds out his hand.  
“Let’s go find him.”

The Ghoul gives her a sparkling, optimistic grin. He’s absolutely right; it’s time to tell Copia that she’s in love with him. Time to get everything out on the table. Returning his smile, she takes Swiss’ offered hand and lets him help her up off the bench onto her feet.

“I’m ready,” Serafina says confidently.

But as soon as she takes that first step into her future, she feels a familiar and unwelcome sensation. Something inside her shifts, and she feels a sudden, sticky gush soak into her underwear. She stiffens. Every time. Every single time she thinks she’s gotten all clean…

“Son of a bitch!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned! Thank you for reading and please leave kudos if you're a guest and not a registered user, because they don't count unregistered hits!  
I also want to give a shout out to the novel The Crimson Petal and the White by Michel Faber, as the inspiration for the bathroom scene, and the chapter's ending.

**Author's Note:**

> A cliffhanger! So yeah, I ended up writing Papa Nihil as a much bigger asshole than I initially intended, but the man had his own sons whacked, and that IS kind of a dick move.  
Stay tuned for Chapter 2!


End file.
